Fall from Grace
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Attacks of violence affect people differently...how does the morgue react when it happens to one of their own? WJ eventually.
1. Have You Seen Jordan?

**Disclaimer: They're all Tim Kring's creations. I don't own any of them…not a one…doesn't mean I don't borrow them liberally, though.**

**Chapter One**

**Have You Seen Jordan?**

_Funny how you never expect you're going to be a victim_….that was almost the last coherent thought that ran through Jordan's mind as his hand hit her squarely on the jaw…her head spinning under the impact. Struggling to keep conscious, she tried to focus on her attacker's face…what she could see of it.

"You're all alike," he whispered to her…before she felt a searing pain across her chest and she gasped. "Damn you…hold still…"

_Funny…how you never think it's going to happen to you…_and it felt as if her head exploded with pain, and then everything went dark. _Oh, God… please…please let somebody find me…please._

* * *

"Look, I know working together isn't going to be easy," Jordan said, walking with Woody down the hall of the Boston PD, "but we're both adults right?"

"When I said I didn't want to see you again, I meant it," Woody answered, keeping his voice low, as he maneuvered himself down the crowded hall with his crutches. "I realize that we will have cases together, Jordan, but nothing has changed. Not with me. Personally, it's time we both move on. I know we're at different places in our lives…I've still got months of rehab and two more surgeries before I get the full use of my legs back. And you….you…I know you….you have something going on, I'm sure."

Jordan didn't know how to tell him that the only thing she had preoccupied herself with during the four months he had been absent from the Boston police department was his physical therapy and counting the days until he was back at work and in her life. "Not really…" she said, in a voice just as low. "Nothing but you…I meant what I told you in the hospital, Woody. I haven't changed my mind, either."

Woody arched a brow at her. "What about? That you don't want me to leave and you _love_ me. Oh yes…I remember. I also still believe that there was more pity than truth in your words, Jordan." He had arrived at his office. "Thanks for the help upstairs. Don't make a habit of waiting for me every morning. I can do it myself. Good-bye, Jordan." And with that he closed the door firmly in her face.

Jordan sighed and looked at the closed door. It had been four months since she whispered in his ear that she loved him…and begged him not to leave her. And she was no closer to making him believe it now than she was then. She had stayed at the hospital continuously…despite his temper and efforts to keep her away. She made sure he was taken care of, attended physical therapy, even learning how to help him with the painful exercises that were re-teaching his nerves how to respond to stimuli.

But she may as well been talking to the door in front of her nose. Glancing down at her watch, she checked the time. _Damn…Slokum's going to have my ass if I'm late._ Pushing Woody to the back of her mind, she nearly ran back to her office, beating the clock by five minutes. For the next several hours, she focused on Garret's case…and how to get him back into the morgue.

That was how her Monday had begun…a normal beginning to a normal work week for her…avoiding Slokum…searching for answers in Garret's case…talking with Nigel…missing Woody. When her day had ended at five, she had walked back over to Woody's office to see if he needed any help getting home…and to find out if maybe he'd like to go out for Mexican and a beer. Santana said he left for the day about three…he was tiring quicker than he thought he would.She drove past his apartment. His lights were on, so he had made it home safely… but she somehow couldn't gather the courage to go in and check on him. Preoccupied with thoughts of Woody, she had walked through the parking garage of her own apartment, never hearing her attacker coming from behind her.

Never in the darkest recesses of her mind did she ever imagine her day that had begun so normally would end so violently.

* * *

"Have you seen, Jordan?" Woody asked Nigel.

"Woodrow…good to see you up and ambulatory again…"

"Yeah…right…whatever. Have you seen Jordan? I'm following up on this case for Berman and she did the autopsy. I need to talk to her."

"Jordan hasn't come in yet…which is kind of odd."

"Nigel…I hate to break it to you, but Jordan is nearly always late."

"Not since Slokum begun his reign of terror," Nigel whispered conspiratorially. "We all live in fear of losing our jobs. Jordan has been the model of the responsible employee since Garret left. I'm not sure if she's trying to be the shining example to the rest of us or just trying to hang on to her job long enough to prove Garret's innocence."

Woody nodded. Jordan had mentioned several times during his hospital stay how important it was that she be on time…and what a general pain in the ass Slokum was. "So…any idea where Jordan is?" he asked again. "Is she on a field call?"

"No… Detective Hite, I believe?" Slokum asked, coming up from behind Nigel. Woody noticed the Brit's eyes close in disbelief. "And where's your visitor's pass?"

"Hoyt. The name is Detective Hoyt, Dr. Slokum. I didn't think I needed a visitor's pass since I'm here on official business from DA Walcott."

"Everyone that is not an employee of the morgue needs a pass…"

"Have you seen Jordan?" Woody asked, cutting Slokum off. He was beginning to understand why the morgue staff harbored such an intense dislike for the new interm-chief ME.

"Dr. Cavanaugh…no, I haven't seen her, but she called me early this morning. She said she wasn't feeling well, and asked if it would be okay if she came in after lunch. Normally, I have a hard time believing sick calls, but this time I did. She sounded awful. I told her to take the rest of the day if she needed it…but she said she would be in between one and two, Detective," Slokum said, responding to Woody. "And don't you have work to do?" he asked Nigel, turning to him. Nigel gave Woody a mournful look and went back into trace.

"Can I leave her a message to call me when she comes in?" Woody asked Slokum.

"I'll tell Dr. Cavanaugh you're looking for her. Good day, Detective," Slokum answered, dismissing Woody.

So…Jordan was sick. That was a first. Woody pondered the possibilities while making his way back to his office. She had never been sick the entire time he had known her. Maybe all the stress of Garret and Slokum was catching up with her. Of course, he acknowledged he had put some stress on her, too. Woody ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't easy living with unrequited love. He had known that for a fact for the last four years.


	2. Funny

**Chapter Two**

**Funny**

Jordan stared at herself in front of the mirror for a long time. Funny how twenty-four hours and a spin of the earth could completely rearrange your world.

Yesterday, she was Jordan Cavanaugh…Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, ME for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts…single woman…independent…smart…strong … in love with a Boston policeman.

Today, she was Jordan…victim of a sexual attack. Gamely she applied more cover stick to the dark circles under her eyes. She had spent most of the night in the emergency room of the hospital…after a neighbor found her in the parking deck and drove her there. She had endured the exam…answered the questions…but requested that the emergency room workers not call the police. They could turn in what clothing they needed to into law enforcement as evidence, but leave her anonymous. Since she was an ME, she'd file the report with a detective she felt comfortable with the next day.

And they had believed her. After all, she had her ME badge in her purse. What wasn't there to believe?

Everything. She had no intention of ever filing the report. She was a big girl…she should have known better than to walk across the parking deck without being aware of her surroundings. That, coupled with the fact the perp at least had some idea of where she lived…and may retaliate if she did file a report, kept her from coming forward. Well…that and the feeling of guilt and shame that most victims of sexual assault feel. She swallowed her fears and tamped down her hysteria as she got ready for work. The best way to cope was by keeping busy. And God knows Slokum was more than willing to help her in that area.

She donned a large, shapeless shirt that buttoned up to her neck and an old, baggy pair of jeans. She hadn't lied to Jack Slokum. She didn't feel good this morning. She still didn't feel good. She wondered if she ever would again.

* * *

"Ah. Jordan. There you are," Woody said, walking down the hall of the morgue to her office. "Are you feeling better? Slokum said you were sick this morning."

Nervously Jordan fidgeted with the top button of her shirt. Surely Woody hadn't found out…surely he didn't know. Not him…not of all people, him. "I'm…better. Thanks."

"Good. Berman is on vacation and the chief wanted me to see if you could answer some questions on one of his cases so we can get it closed. You did the autopsy…do you remember?"

Jordan gazed at Woody for a moment…her eyes clearly not focusing.

"Jordan?" Woody asked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

_He doesn't know…he doesn't know…no one knows except me…and him…the man that attacked me….._Jordan kept repeating to herself as she began to avert attention to the file Woody had spread out on her desk. "Sorry….must be the medication I'm on…" she responded, all the while hating herself for lying to Woody. "Let me take a look." For the next half hour, she gamely looked through the murder investigation and answered Woody's questions, sighing with relief when the detective shut the file and thanked her…he'd be able to close the case now and the chief would be happy.

Giving her one more glance before he left the morgue on his crutches, Woody still sensed something wasn't right with her. "Jordan…are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Have a good afternoon, Woody." And with that she turned towards her computer….focusing once again on Garret's case.

He paused for one more moment. He had told her they both needed to move on…that he didn't want to see her outside of work…but something wasn't right with Jordan. He couldn't put his finger on it…but something wasn't normal with her…or as normal as Jordan gets. Something funny was going on. Tentatively he cleared his throat. She didn't turn back to him. So he spoke: "Um…Mexican tonight after work? Santana said that you came by yesterday to see if I wanted to go last night. I think I could handle it tonight."

"Huh? What? Mexican? Tonight? No…not tonight…"

"Tomorrow for lunch?" he pressed, determined to find out what was bothering her.

"Lunch? Why?"

"You know….just forget it. Bad idea…" he replied, sputtering in frustration.

She nodded and turned back to her computer.

He had told her they both needed to move on…and that he didn't want to see her outside of work. Evidently she had taken his words to heart.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon had dragged for Jordan. Her muscles rebelled against sitting too long…they were still sore and stiff from last night….She had stayed later that five…even though in a fit of generosity Slokum had told her she didn't need to stay late to make up for the time she was gone this morning.

She was waiting on Nigel. More than anything else, she dreaded going back to her apartment and the parking garage by herself. She was hoping she could entice Nigel to come home with her for some Chinese takeout and a movie. She waited until she saw him turning the lights off in his office. "Nige?" she asked softly.

"Love…feeling better?"

"Yeah. Some. Say, I was wondering if you'd like to come over for some Chinese and a movie tonight?"

"Chinese and a movie…gee, as enticing as that sounds Jordan, every time you and I get together, I end up drinking too much and falling asleep on your couch."

Jordan gave him a grin. "And this is a problem, how?"

Nigel returned her grin with a sad smile. "Well, for two reasons, love. First, we all have to be on time in the morning and if I spend the night on your sofa…as heart warming as the thought is, I'd be late for work because I would have to go home, shower, and change clothes. And second…what on earth would Woody think?"

Jordan bit her bottom lip before looking up in his eyes. "Well, you could go home first and grab some clothes just in case you do end up on my couch and who cares what Woody thinks?"

Nigel gave her a puzzled look "I thought you did. After all, you've told him that you love him…"

"And he could care less. Please, Nigel?"

The one thing Nigel was not going to do…at least in his mind…was become a pawn or go-between in the saga of Jordan and Woody. And if he spent the night on Jordan's couch…as innocent as that would be….Woody might take it the wrong way.

And despite what Jordan had said about not caring what Woody thought, the Brit knew damn good and well she really did care. So there was no way he was going to muck up in any way, shape, or form whatever it was that they all had together, either his and Jordan's friendship, or her and Woody's….whatever.

"Let me take a rain check, okay, Jordan? I'm bushed. All I want to do is go home, catch thirty minutes of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' and go to bed. Next time?"

Jordan tried to steel her features…so she wouldn't show Nigel how disappointed she was. "Sure…next time." She walked with him to the elevators.

"Definitely next time…" Nigel responded, allowing her to punch the down button. Funny…he could have sworn he saw her fingers shaking.


	3. Cruel, Brutal, and Careful

**Chapter Three**

**Cruel, Brutal, and Careful**

**_And by the way….the case of the assailant that forced his victims to wear a pink nightgown and he used protection….real case. Which goes to prove, truth is stranger than fiction. Usually. _**

* * *

Six weeks had passed. Jordan knew this for a fact. At the end of each working day, she methodically made an "X" in that day's box on her wall calendar. It had been six weeks since her world had been turned upside down.

Six weeks…and she thought she may be setting her universe right side up again. All of the tests for STDs had come back negative. Including her AIDs test. And she had her period. She wasn't pregnant.

However her tests had also revealed something odd about her assault. Her attacker stopped to use a condom. Not something that normally happened every day. As a matter of fact, there was only one other case that she remembered that a rapist took the time to use protection….and that had been years before she became a medical examiner. The perp forced his victims to change into a pink negligee and he used protection.

Her attacker had been brutal … cruel…and careful all at the same time. Jordan shook her head and tugged at her loose fitting sweater as she stared out the window. No matter how hard she tried, she feared some things would never go back to the way they were before her attack. She felt she could no longer wear her form fitting jeans and smaller-sized shirts…Larger fitting clothes showed no shape of her figure…they became her armor, really. If she looked and felt unattractive, maybe no one else would hurt her. But even if she was dressed in designer wear, she never thought she could be attractive to another man again. More specifically, attractive to Woody.

In the back of her mind, despite what he had told her at the hospital after he had been shot by the sniper…to go away…he didn't want her pity…she had harbored the longing that they would still end up together…given enough time and attention, he would realize the extent of her feelings. Only now she felt that couldn't happen. She knew it was irrational, but the scars her attacker had left on her ran deep, as did the needless shame that many victims of sexual assault feel – that somehow, some way, it was really their fault. She now felt, that no matter what happened, Woody would never want her. Not after what had occurred.

So it was for the best that he had already decided to close the door on their relationship…and moved on.

And as soon as she was able, she would do the same. For despite the fact that she did love Woody…more than she could express…she didn't think he could ever love her now. And the thought of a man…any man…including Woody…touching her…made her sick and panicky.

Not what she wanted the next time she made love….she had been waiting for the time to be right between her and her Farm Boy…he was the last and only man she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. Only it wasn't meant to be. Not only had she never made love with him in the past, she now didn't know if she would ever be able to in the future….with any one.

"Hey…are you up for an autopsy?' Garret called from her doorway, bringing her out of her thoughts. The one thing that had returned to normal during these six weeks was that Garret had been cleared of charges and was back as chief ME, much to Jordan's and the rest of the staff's delight.

"Me? Sure."

"Exam room one. Woody's the lead detective, though. Will you be all right with that?" Garret asked cautiously. He had heard through the grapevine what had happened between the couple. He was genuinely sad for Jordan, and more than a tad upset at Woody for his callousness.

"I'll be fine, Garret. We have worked together since he got back to work. And it's okay." She smiled at her boss as she went to change into her scrubs. If she could just keep busy, she wouldn't have to think about anything but the bodies in front of her.

* * *

"So what have we got?" she asked Nigel as she snapped on her latex gloves and pulled down her face shield.

"Female, Caucasian, roughly 36 years-old….throat slashed."

Jordan gingerly pulled the sheet down that covered the victim. The gash that crossed her throat was jagged and deep. "Man…" she breathed.

"Yeah. Her assailant was brutal," Woody said, coming up behind her. She could hear the soft click of his cane. He had graduated from crutches a week ago. She had been genuinely glad for him. More and more of the feeling had been returning to his legs…no thanks to her. She had stopped attending his physical therapy sessions right after her attack. She would have gotten home well after dark and was afraid to walk through her parking garage then.

"What does trace tell us?" she asked Nigel, trying to pull herself together … she was always on edge now, but even more so when Woody was there.

"There was semen present…so there was sex, but it doesn't appear to be consensual."

Jordan closed her eyes. She had dreaded her first sexual assault homicide after her attack…but at least it didn't appear to be her attacker. There was semen. Her attacker had used a condom.

"Well, at least one of our rapists hasn't graduated to homicide," Woody commented, looking over the reports that Nigel had handed him.

"One of the rapists?" Jordan asked, feeling her heart lurch to her throat.

"Yeah…there have been a series of rapes…really strange cases…the attacker brutalizes his victims, but yet stops to use a condom. I've never …."

Jordan didn't acknowledge the rest of what Woody was saying….a loud ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing anything else. She felt herself flush hot and then cold. If she didn't get out of the room, she was going to be sick…or worse, faint. She swallowed hard. "The rapist…the one who uses a condom…who's the lead detective on that case?" she asked, her voice faint.

"I am."

_Oh shit. _She suddenly snapped off her gloves. "Nigel…I'll be right back…I promise." She ran from autopsy to the ladies locker room, flinging open the door, letting it slam behind her and sliding down the wall to sit on a bench. Putting her head between her legs to keep from fainting, she swallowed the bile she felt rising in her throat. Even if she wanted to tell now…Woody was the lead detective. And he was the last person she wanted to find out. She couldn't bear his pity anymore than he could stand hers.

Gaining control of her stomach and her emotions, she went to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. Looking at herself in the mirror in front of her, she dried her face and looked herself in the eyes. _You can do this, Cavanaugh. You never thought you'd function fully after your mother's death, or your father's abandoning you…but you have. You knew it was going to be hard after Woody pushed you away, yet you still get up every morning. You can work through this, too._ She walked back into the exam room.

"Sorry," she said, giving Woody and Nigel a weak smile. "Sexual assault cases have always been hard on me…sometimes….sometimes….man's inhumanity to man…or in this case, woman, is more than I can handle."

Nigel nodded and continued to run tox screens. Woody said nothing, just observed in silence as the autopsy was completed. Jordan snapped her gloves off one more time and threw them into the hazmat container and started to go out the door.

"Jordan."

Her heart raced to her throat again. What if he had somehow put two and two together….

"The rapist that uses condoms….some of his attacks were close to your neighborhood. Be careful…okay?" Woody asked.

Jordan turned around and tried to give him her best nonchalant smile. "Will do, Detective."


	4. Escape

**Chapter Four**

**Escape**

Without knowing it, Woody gave Jordan an out. An escape. A workable way to cope with her fears. He had told her point blank…in front of Nigel … that some of the attacks had happened in her neighborhood. Now she could act cautious….even a little fearful… hesitate to go home by herself and have a valid reason. Everyone would think she rightfully didn't want to get attacked.

And when Woody caught the man behind the sexual assaults, her fear-driven behavior could end naturally.

_Thank you, Woody. I owe you one…._Jordan thought as she began to strategize how to implement her safeguards….anything would beat sleeping in the closet like she had been doing several times a week. She'd wake up gasping for breath…dreaming of her attack…and be so scared to go back to sleep…never quite having felt so alone in a place that had always been her solace. She would always end those nights the same way … taking the blanket and pillow off her bed, curling up in the closet and shutting the door, believing that if her attacker came back, he wouldn't find her in there.

She knew it wasn't rational, but at two in the morning it at least made her feel secure enough to grab a few more hours rest before she had to go to work. Jordan would always chastise herself the next day for thinking this way, but her behavior didn't change. Even if she slept with all the lights on in her entire apartment, many nights she still would find refuge in her small closet, curling up in a tiny ball, trying to make herself fade away from her assailant.

But if she thought she was fooling everyone, she was sorely mistaken. Nigel and Garret might have chalked up her sudden preference for ill-fitting clothing, lack of appetite, and obvious sleepless nights to one of her moods. Woody sensed something different.

He sensed fear.

He had worked with victims too long not to know it when he saw it. Jordan was afraid. He assumed it was because of the attacker in and around her neighborhood – but he had never seen her this safety conscious even on the worst of cases. And she was obviously worried about being one of the attacker's victims. She never walked out of the morgue at night by herself any longer. As a matter of fact, she never went anywhere by herself at night any longer. Including Woody's physical therapy sessions.

She had apologized profusely to the detective…but cited concerns about the assailant. One part of him understood…yet another part of him was keenly disappointed. He had told himself repeatedly it was due to the fact that seeing her at the sessions made him angry enough to keep pushing himself. The truth was, looking into her honey-colored eyes was often the encouragement he needed to really tough out the painful therapy. "Don't worry about it," he had responded gruffly. "There's really no need for you to be there."

She had turned from him then, giving him the same hurt-filled look that she had when he was in the hospital and he pushed her away.

As the weeks passed, Jordan was able to implement most of her "security system." Nigel would walk out with her at night to her car. And the nights she worked really late, he would even follow her home and walk her to her apartment, often relenting from his previous vow and staying long enough to eat Chinese. Jordan stopped going out at night altogether, unless she was with someone.

And so far, her plan was working splendidly. Woody was giving her some strange looks, but Jordan assumed it was because she was now spending so much time with Nigel, as he was the hub of her security plan. Resolutely she told herself whatever the detective thought didn't matter. What mattered was that she didn't get attacked…again.

She had learned to swallow her fear and deal with her demons…so she thought. Until she got a call from Woody in the early hours of a Friday morning. She needed to come into the morgue immediately. There was another murder victim…who had also been sexually assaulted. Jordan and the body arrived in autopsy at nearly the same time. "What do we have?" she asked Woody

"Female, Caucasian, her Massachusetts' driver's license says she is one Sarah Manning…and she's 35 years-old."

Jordan swallowed hard. "Raped?" she forced out, nearly stammering. The horror of that word…it's base meaning…still caused her problems in saying it.

"Yeah. It sure as hell wasn't consensual. Take a look." Woody pulled the sheet back from the body. There were defense wounds on her arms and hands… "She probably got a half-way good swipe at him with her hands. Check her under her nails and see if we have enough of anything there for a DNA run…"

Jordan nodded, only vaguely hearing him. She was looking at the girl's face…brunette hair…brown eyes….it could be her sister.

Or her.

And the girl's chest was a mass of slash wounds from a knife. Woody noticed what Jordan was looking. "One of those…" he said pointing to the wounds, "was fatal. I'm going to need to know which one or ones it could be."

"Woody…any idea who did this?"

"Seems our condom rapist has graduated to murder."

Jordan felt as if someone had hit her in the solar plexus. She had no air left in her lungs. "You're sure?" she asked in a faint voice.

"Positive." Woody turned back to the body in front of them. "What I don't understand is…"

Jordan didn't hear him. The roar in her head took over and she backed off from the gurney, her hands over her ears. The room spun. She heard Woody call her name, and then everything went black.

* * *

"How long has Dr. Cavanaugh not been eating?" Dr. Coburn asked Garret, Nigel, and Woody. Woody had caught Jordan before she hit the floor after collapsing in autopsy, gently lowering her and himself to the ground. He had yelled for someone to call 911. Garret and Nigel had responded and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

"Not eating?" Garret asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes…not eating. Although I imagine it was hard to tell with those bulky clothes she wears," the doctor commented. "Any idea how long? Could she have an eating disorder?"

"Nothing in her past would make you think she would," Garret said. "Although when she's under stress, she tends not to take care of herself."

"Anything lead you to believe she would harm herself?" Dr. Coburn cautiously asked.

Garret thought quickly. Of course he was privy to Jordan's supposed suicide attempt years earlier…but that was a different life for her then. There was nothing…nothing, not even in the heat of looking for her mother's killer that would lead him to believe that she would hurt herself. "No," he responded. "Why?"

Dr. Coburn shook his head. "Just asking. Has she been under any unusual amount of stress lately…anything that would push her over the edge?"

Nigel blew out a sigh, carefully choosing his words. Two of the three men in her life that had caused her so much grief were right there in front of him. "I would say so," he cautioned. "There's been quite a bit of…upheaval lately." Jordan had confided to the Brit during some of the dinners at her apartment how betrayed and hurt she felt by Garret's actions, and how very painful it was to see Woody on a daily basis and know he no longer cared anything about her. Not to mention how much she missed her father….only Nigel knew just how abandoned Jordan felt…the hurt she was carrying.

She had cried all evening in his arms one time. He had held her in his lap and nearly rocked her to sleep like a child. "I'll never, never get that close to another person again," she had vowed out loud. "It hurts too much to lose them, Nigel."

"But Jordan, you'll only be living half a life if you don't love and allow yourself to be loved in return," he had quietly replied, gently brushing her hair off her forehead.

"I won't hurt, though. My heart…what's left of it…won't break again."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right man," he teased.

She had shaken her head. "I met the right one…I just screwed it up."

"Give Woody some time, love. He's been through a lot."

"No…he'll never love me again…not now."

"Jordan…you don't know that," he had gently scolded, but wondered just how much she had really told him about her and Woody's "break up."

"No…I do know that," she had whispered, before pushing herself away from him and standing up, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. "Nigel…why can't all men be like you?"

"Dashingly handsome and sensual?"

She had laughed then….nearly a belly roll. "No….sweet and understanding….but totally unthreatening and harmless…"

"And that's a good thing?"

"Yes…that's a very good thing," she had replied, with a far away look in her eyes.

Nigel didn't understand it then. He thought he did now. "Can I see her?" he quietly asked Dr. Coburn.


	5. Heartbreak and Determination

**Chapter Five**

**Heartbreak and Determination**

The mind is a wondrous thing when you stop to consider it. It runs on electrical impulses…some are voluntary…like your brain giving your arm the command to swing or your legs the order to run. Many, many more impulses are involuntary. You never have to tell your lungs to breathe…you never have to tell your eyes to see.

You never have to tell your heart to beat or break. Somehow it knows how to do that all on its own. And when the heartbreak is just too much for the mind to deal with, sometimes the mind decides to shut down for a while.

And that's exactly what happened to Jordan. She didn't regain consciousness for two days, during which time Garret and Woody nearly came to blows over her condition. Woody wanted to see Jordan. Garret blamed Woody for her state of health. "She loves you…it might have taken her a while to admit it…and damn it, her timing was terrible, but she loves you.'

"I don't know," Woody replied, still dubious. "I'm not sure some of it's not pity. But I want to see her, Garret. I need to…I need to make sure she's all right."

"No. Not right now. She's still too fragile. You should to leave her alone until she gets her bearings. Do you hear me?"

"You can't stop me."

"I can sure as hell try," Garret replied, his tone and eyes cold.

Nigel didn't know how to tell either of them that they both were a large part of Jordan's problem.Nigel was still processing what the rest of the issue could be. The nurses and doctors were only letting him into Jordan's room right now anyway, despite Garret's seemingly paternal attitude about the whole situation. And this was only because Jordan kept calling out for Nigel, even in her state of unconsciousness.

"Nigel," she called out again the afternoon of the second day.

"What, love? Come back to me….please."

"Nige?" she whispered, opening her eyes and trying to focus. "Where am I?"

"The hospital, love. Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember going into autopsy with Woody…"

"And…"

"That's it."

"Do you remember Sarah Manning?"

The look that ran across her fact told him that she did. She turned her head towards the wall. "Yes," she whispered.

Gently Nigel reached out and turned her face back to his. "Want to tell me about it, love?"

* * *

"I don't really remember anything else," she whispered as Nigel handed her a tissue. 

"Jordan, why haven't you told anyone before now?"

"Typical victim attitude, I guess, Nige. I should have been more alert…I knew the risks of walking through a parking deck alone at that hour…fear that if I reported it, the attacker might come back…guilt…shame…." She swallowed hard and turned her face away from Nigel's.

"And the fact that Woody is the lead detective on these rapes?"

She nodded. "I couldn't bear his pity…or those looks that some cops give ra.. sexual assault victims." She still had trouble making her lips form the word.

"You could tell Lois, Santana, or Annie."

"He'd still have to know. Woody would still have to know…he's the lead detective."

Nigel nodded and gently took her hand. "I understand…I do... I don't agree with your decision not to tell, but I understand."

"Thanks, Nige."

Nigel thought for a moment. "Jordan, when did this take place…when did you get attacked?"

"Three months ago… nearly four."

He nodded. "You know that makes you the attacker's first victim." He held her gaze for a few moments. Jordan knew what he was alluding to. As the first victim of the attacker, she could hold valuable clues on why he started, who he chose as his targets and why, and the reason he had gone from merely sexually assaulting victims to killing them.

She knew this…and that made her guilt of withholding the information even more acute. But her fear and guilt kept her nearly paralyzed. "Nigel…please…"

"I'm not going to try to force you into talking to the police…although I think you eventually will. You've got to do it on your own timetable, though. And everyone needs to respect that."

She nodded. Then a thought struck her. "What am I going to tell everyone…why I collapsed in autopsy?"

"The truth….or at least a version of it. The stress of your recent past…your father's leaving Boston, Garret and Slokum, Woody's pushing you away….then this case….the stress just all caught up with you at once. You are allowed to be human, you know," Nigel chuckled.

She smiled at him weakly. "Funny…somehow I think Garret and Woody may have a hard time swallowing that."

"Maybe…maybe not. But I don't think you need to go home and be alone now." Nigel was thankful that like a lot of rape victims, Jordan had blocked out many of the memories of the actual event for the present…although he was sure with time, she would remember more. And he didn't want her to be by herself when she did.

"I don't want to be. Please don't leave me by myself, Nigel. You're the only person I can trust right now. Could I…"

"You don't have to ask. My current roommate is AWOL in Europe…you're as welcome as the sunshine, love."

* * *

"She's going home with _you_?" Woody asked Nigel, nearly incredulous as the tall man helped sign Jordan out of the hospital. 

"Is that so hard to believe?" Nigel asked in return, signing the final paper and handing it back to the nurse with a smile.

"I agree that she doesn't need to be alone…but why does she want to go with you?"

"Well, it could be that Jordan and I have been friends for a long time…and right now with her father gone, her relationship with Garret in tatters, and then your rejection of her, where else is she supposed to go?" Nigel gave Woody a pointed look. "Surely you didn't expect her to stay with you…or ask you to stay with her?"

Woody looked away. No…he hadn't expected her to show up on _his_ doorstep, but he did harbor the thought that she would ask him to camp out on _her _couch for a while. And to tell the truth, he had been looking forward to it…to seeing her again…somewhere other than work.

But it wasn't to be. He watched with regret and suspicion as Nigel pushed Jordan's wheelchair down the hall and helped her into her car. The doctor and Nigel said that stress was causing Jordan's health problems. If he was the cause…or even part of it…maybe it was better he stay away from her for awhile…even though everything in the detective in him was screaming there was something more to Jordan's story than just stress.

And he was damned and determined to find out what it was.


	6. The Truth Doesn't Always Set You Free

**Chapter Six**

**The Truth Doesn't Always Set You Free**

So he watched her from a distance…for the next several weeks, Woody just casually observed Jordan, hopefully without her noticing. As a detective, he knew that suspects often were caught when they were under low-key surveillance because they thought no one was watching as they planned their next crime or cover up.

However, his masculine pride was taking a beating in the meanwhile because she was living with Nigel. That fact in itself was hard to swallow. Was it his masculine ego pricking his conscious so hard or the fact that Jordan no longer felt safe with him or felt she could no longer ask him for help? He really didn't know which one. He just was having a hard time dealing with her living arrangements. And he had a sickening feeling it was a little of both his pride and _her _rejection of _him_ that was making his life nearly unbearable.

There were only a couple of times in his relationship with Jordan that she had been remotely clingy with him. But now it was a regular part of her behavior with Nigel. They came into work together. They left together in the evening.

He had seen them together after work occasionally. Sometimes Jordan had seemed nearly happy. But most of the time Woody could still sense that fear in her. It was more than just the apprehension that she might be attacked…and it was more than just stress. But he still couldn't piece together what was bothering her.

And as much as he wanted to ask her, he knew he couldn't right now. He wouldn't do anything to increase her anxiety level…he wouldn't do anything to cause her to faint again. He had never felt as helpless as when she was unconscious in his lap on the floor of autopsy.

So he watched and waited. And found out nothing, except for the fact he would bet anything that there was something going on in Jordan's life that had scared her deeply. However, if there was, the lady wasn't talking.

But a very wise person once said that truth is a lot like cream. When the temperature is just right, and the milk is left alone, it will rise to the top. The truth would eventually come out. And when it did, maybe it would set her free from whatever was frightening her.

So Woody would just have to be patient and wait. Sooner or later he would know. Jordan might show her hand or Nigel might slip and tell him, but he would know.

And hopefully Jordan would realize then that she could still depend on his help, even if their relationship was over.

* * *

"There you go, love," Nigel said, handing Jordan a cup of hot chocolate. "Hopefully this will help you go back to sleep." He gently pushed her hair off her forehead as he helped her sit up in bed.

"Thanks, Nige." She took the cup from him with a wan smile. These bad dreams were becoming an every night experience now as the memories of her attack were beginning to surface. It seemed every night now there was a new revelation….sometimes big, sometimes small, but always painful. Sometimes so excruciating that Nigel would end up curling up beside her, on the top of the bedspread, just holding her until she would fall into a fitful sleep.

But he never stayed there the entire night. If he did, at some point during the night, she'd wake up gasping, thinking Nigel was her attacker. And not be able to go back to sleep the rest of the night.

"What exactly did you remember tonight?" Nigel prodded gently. He was writing down as much as she could recall about her attack, knowing that at some point Jordan would go to the police, and she might need this record.

"He…he…had a knife. A large one…."

"You've known he had a knife…you said he threatened you with it."

"Yeah…but I never could remember what kind…until tonight."

"So….was it a kitchen knife…a wood working knife..."

"No…no. It was the kind that fishermen carry…."

"The serrated kind?'

"Yeah…that they use for scaling…"

"Good, anything else?"

Jordan shook her head. "No…no. Nothing else. Not tonight. Sorry."

Nigel smiled sadly at her. "It's okay, love. It will come. You'll remember."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Nigel. That's what really scares me."

* * *

"What's that?" Woody asked Santana as she walked into his office with a small evidence box in her arms.

"Something to keep you busy and out of my hair," she replied with a smirk.

Woody raised an eyebrow to the younger, female detective. "And that would be?"

"A box of evidence from a rape about six months ago." She sat the box down on his desk with a thud.

"And?"

"And it might be a link to the condom rapist. The report from the victim and the tests ran indicate strongly it was that assailant."

"Why haven't we heard about this vic until now?"

"Because while the victim willingly turned over her clothing as evidence…she refused to give her name."

"Well, even if we can link the evidence to the attacker, without a named victim, that's going to make it damned hard to validate the link."

"Yeah, but _if_ the woman was a target of the condom rapist, she," Santana said, pointing to the evidence box, "is his first victim. And we both know how important that would be. So good luck, detective." With that, she left his office, shutting the door behind her.

Woody sighed and took off his suit coat. Loosening his tie, he put on a pair of latex gloves and opened the top of the box. A pair of size two ladies' jeans…._she was tiny…petite…_ he thought, a masculine feeling of protectiveness automatically rose in his chest. _She was probably too short to fight him off…poor girl._ Bra. Brief cut underwear. None of it rang familiar with Woody until he pulled out the shirt. It was light green with darker green cut outs resembling leaves.

He knew the shirt. She had always looked good in green…but it couldn't be…she would have told him….tentatively he put the shirt to his nose. Lavender and jasmine. He would always remember that scent because…

Because she wore it all the time. It was hers.

_Dear God_, Woody thought, the room beginning to spin around him as he sat down hard in his office chair. _No wonder she's been acting so fearfully…she's been afraid for months._ He swallowed hard and ran his fingers through his hair as the cold, hard truth began to sink down and solidify in his mind. _Oh Jesus, tell me it isn't true…_He felt the contents of his stomach lurch as the realization hit him hard. The shirt belonged to Jordan.

Jordan was the first victim of the rapist.


	7. Don't Touch Me

**Chapter Seven**

**Don't Touch Me**

_Dear God…_Woody buried his head in his hands for endless minutes, still processing his discovery. This explained so much…her fearfulness…her clinging to Nigel.

Nigel. Nigel knew…Woody would bet any money on it. Jordan may not have told him directly, but the detective would wager that Nigel had put the pieces of this puzzle together shortly after Jordan passed out during the Sarah Manning autopsy.

And the Brit didn't tell him.

Woody stood and slammed his fist down on his desk with such force that a few stray items near the edge of the surface tumbled to the floor. Then running his hand through his hair again, he began to pace.

_Nigel knew….Nigel knew and he didn't tell me. Damn him…did he think he was really the only one left who cared about Jordan? _

_And Jordan…why didn't you tell me?_

He thought he knew the answer to the second question better than the first. Grabbing his coat and slamming the door to his office behind him, Woody made his way over to the morgue and Nigel's office, praying he would catch the criminalist alon

* * *

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" he yelled at Nigel, after entering the morgue office and slamming the door behind him. 

"Tell you? Tell you what?" Nigel asked innocently, keeping an eye on Woody as the detective began to pace the small room.

"You know what. That Jordan… Jordan…" Damn, the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't get them out around the lump that had taken up residence there.

"That Jordan what?"

"That Jordan has been … assaulted by…"

"The condom rapist?"

"Yeah."

"Because…that's not my call. It's hers."

"But…I should have known earlier."

Nigel sighed. He had actually been expecting this moment for a while. He knew Jordan had turned over her clothing to the police as evidence even though she refused to give her name. He also was aware that when the evidence was examined, and was linked to the rapist, Woody would have to be told. And while Woody had professed for the better part of the last six months that everything was over between himself and Jordan, Nigel knew better. Woody watched her too closely…he was already aware something wasn't right with her. It was just a matter of time before the detective recognized that the clothing that had been turned into evidence belonged to Jordan. "That wasn't my decision, Woody. It was hers. She'll talk to the police as soon as she feels ready…she's almost there."

"I'm not talking about that, Nigel," Woody said, frustration and exasperation edging his voice. "I should have been told because….because…"

"Because you're her _friend_? Jordan has lots of friends. I'm the only one she's told." Nigel folded his arms defensively across his chest.

"No…she's more than that to me…you know that."

"You've got a funny way of showing it. And for the record, she _doesn't_ think she means _anything_ to you…she believes that it's over between the two of you, even your friendship. You blew it, Woody."

"So now you're filling that place in her life?" Woody stepped forward threateningly.

"No…no…mate…no." Nigel sighed again and slumped against a wall. "Things aren't like that between Jordan and myself…we're friends. Hell, even as hot as she is, I can't think of her in any other way other than my little sister. She's vulnerable and scared and right now I'm the only person she feels she can trust. And maybe she's right." He looked Woody over carefully.

"She can trust me. She always has…she always can."

Nigel shook his head. "She doesn't think so any longer. But you…you still care for her, don't you?"

Woody nodded. "I wish she would have come to me…that night…God, Nigel...I feel so guilty…from what I can tell from the dates on the report, that day was my first day back to work after getting out of the hospital. Jordan had waited for me that morning to help me up to my office and I totally blew her off again. Told her not to make a habit of doing that and that I didn't believe she loved me – it was still all pity. Later, she came back by the station after she got off work. Santana told me she wanted to make sure I had dinner….wanted to take me out for Mexican and a beer. I had already left for the day….she went home alone…the report said she 'had a lot on her mind and wasn't paying too much attention to her surroundings'. She didn't even hear her attacker when he came up behind her….I have a feeling I…we…us…was what was on her mind. Why did I do that to her? Why was I so cold to her?" Woody sat down heavily in a chair and buried his head in his hands again.

Nigel digested this tidbit of information. "Jordan believes you really no longer care about her, Woody. And even if she thought otherwise, I doubt she would have come forward about her rape at that time. You've read the reports. It was brutal. She would never want you to know…at least until she was ready to tell you. And she's not ready for anyone other than me to know, yet."

"I know…I feel so….damned helpless….like there's nothing I can do to ease her pain…help her heal."

"I know she still cares for you….and how you two resolve that issue is up to you. I do know she's not ready for that right now, either. What happened….unfortunately just … happened. Jordan feels incredibly guilty and ashamed…typical rape victim behavior. She didn't remember anything about her attack for a long time…but now it's coming back to her in bits and pieces. I have a feeling she will come forward to the police eventually."

"She's a ME…she knows how important her information could be as the rapist's first victim."

"She's also just that…a victim and a woman…who happens to have a strong emotional attachment to the lead detective on the case. Those feelings have got to be respected, too."

Woody sighed heavily and got to his feet. "I guess I'm glad you're here for her, Nigel…although I admit, I'm as jealous as hell and wish it were me. I understand why it's you, but … I just feel like I need to be doing something more for her."

"Catch the bad guy detective. Then she'll be able to at least know the man won't hurt her again."

* * *

If Woody had been pushing to solve the rape/murder cases before, he was relentless in his efforts now. He conned and cajoled two more detectives out of Walcott to work on catching the perp. He worked long hours….arriving early and staying late. 

And meanwhile, keeping an eye on Jordan…surreptitiously, of course. But any excuse to get information from the morgue was a valid excuse in his mind for a trip over to the building to retrieve the necessary evidence and check on her. He knew on some days he was making a nuisance of himself.

He really didn't care.

He had to reassure himself that she was okay. Which was what he was doing today.

"Hey," he said, entering trace, where she was working on a body.

"Good morning, Detective."

"What do you have there?"

"Don't worry…this is not your case. It's Lois's. So you won't have to work with me on this victim."

"I don't mind working with you, Jordan. I really don't."

"Oh." She turned her attention back to the body in front of her, effectively tuning Woody out and assuming he had left the room. His hand on her back nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.

"Don't," she said, forcefully turning to him again.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Jordan."

She didn't know how to tell him it wasn't just the fact that he scared her…it was the fact that she hated being touched now….sometimes even Nigel's loving, but platonic, touches nearly drove her out of her skin. Many nights she needed to be held and comforted…she longed for the loving touch of another human being, but had found out the hard way that of all her senses affected by the attack, it was her sense of touch that had suffered the most. She simply couldn't bear to be touched unless she initiated it….she controlled it.

That was the one thing Jordan had to have in every area of her life that she could now – control. She had that ripped from her at one time…in the span of what she was sure was only a few minutes but had seemed like hours – she had her control of her life torn from her.

She vowed it wouldn't happen again. She would never allow her heart to love as deeply as it once had.

And she never wanted to be touched again by anyone…unless she gave permission.

"You didn't scare me," she told Woody as she pushed him away from her. "I just never want you to touch me again. Ever."


	8. Reclaiming Her Life

**Chapter Eight**

**ReclaimingHer Life**

She backed away from Woody in utter horror over what she had just said. "Oh my God," she whispered, one hand over her mouth and the other reaching out to him beseechingly. "Oh God….I am so sorry, Woody…I didn't mean it…I just…just…..I'm sorry…"

Woody reached out to take her hand, but she turned and ran out of the room, down the hall and was on the elevator before he could stop her. "Jordan…wait….stop…" he called after her as he tried his best to keep up, but his legs still didn't respond as quickly as he liked sometimes.

"What is it?" Nigel asked, coming out of his office. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jordan…I accidentally startled her…and she's took off."

Nigel gave him a worried look. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No…she was just gone like a bolt of lightning."

"Did you see what direction she went?"

"No…I still can't move as fast…"

"That's okay, Woody. She's got her cell phone. I'll try her on that." But Nigel was worried…Jordan still never went anywhere by herself….He pressed three on his phone…her number was on speed dial, but no answer. "Damn," he muttered, disconnecting and trying again. Still no answer.

"Her GPS?" Woody asked. "Can we find her?"

Nigel raked his fingers through his long hair. "Give her a little while. If I haven't heard from her in two hours, I'll trace it."

"Are you sure she'll be all right in the meantime?"

Nigel nodded. "She has come a long way…she still has a ways to go…but she is getting better, Woody."

Woody nodded. "I've got to get back to the office….call me when you find her? Please?"

"Sure."

But it would be nearly three hours before Nigel made the call. He finally traced Jordan to O'Malley's…a popular bar hang-out with the morgue staff, sitting in a back booth, nursing what appeared to be her seventh or eighth shot of tequila.

"You know that isn't going to help anything," he said, sliding into the booth to sit in front of her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it will make me feel better at least for a little while." She traced the rim of one of the glasses with a finger. Nigel pulled the glass away before she could swallow its contents.

"So do you want to tell me what happened, Jordan? Why did you run away from Woody…did he startle you that badly?'

She shook her head, and waited for the room to stop spinning. "It wasn't the fact he scared me, Nige. He _touched_ me."

Nigel nodded. Woody had omitted that fact. "And you freaked out."

She nodded miserably. "He touched my _back_ for Christ's sake…my back. Totally unthreatening…totally platonic…and I couldn't handle it. When is my life going to go back to normal? When?" She buried her head in her arms on the table.

"It will, Jordan…at least in some aspects. But right now, I need to get you home."

"Woody…I told Woody….the man I still love…not to touch me again…ever. Oh God, Nigel…what have I done? I've pushed him away for good now…haven't I?"

Nigel looked at her with sad eyes. "I don't think so…he knows he scared you and you weren't acting rationally. I think everything will be all right."

"Nigel…I've got to get over this…or at least work through it. I can't keep living like this…I can't keep you living like this.."

"Then you know what you need to do, Jordan."

She nodded as the tall man helped her out of the booth, out the door, and into the car. "I know…" she said. "I'll call Dr. Stiles tomorrow."

* * *

That phone call was one of the toughest she had to make. But it also was one of the most helpful.

"You'll get past this, Jordan. You have got to give yourself permission to take the time you need to move forward…whether it's slow or fast….you need to take the time _you_ need. You do want to put this behind you, don't you?" Dr. Stiles gently probed.

Jordan nodded.

"Then realize that some things in your life will always be different. And that's okay. You survived. You'll continue to survive."

_Some things in my life will always be different_, she mused, coming out of her fifth session with Stiles. She wondered what would change. She still couldn't pull herself out of her dark, baggy clothes, but at least she felt she could wear make up now. And she still wasn't living by herself, she was still entrenched in Nigel's apartment, but she was staying for longer and longer stretches by herself.

But she still didn't like to be touched. She winced when she thought about that day in trace with Woody. He still came around and acted as if nothing had happened…that she had never snapped at him. She had tried to apologize to him again…several times….and each time he stopped her. "It was my fault…I shouldn't have startled you," he told her. "Don't worry…it's already forgotten."

But he had never touched her again…She was relieved and sorry at the same time. A part of her remembered just how comforting his touch was…when he had held her before, or slow danced with her at the Pogue.

_It's probably better this way_, she thought. _Our relationship may be over….but at least we're civil and can work with each other without World War III breaking out. Besides…after what happened to me….who am I kidding? I don't feel attractive…remotely like a woman any longer…and the thought of intimacy on any level is too scary to contemplate…even with the man I love, _she mused for a few minutes. _Especially with the man I love, _she concluded.

What she didn't realize was that the man she loved knew what had happened to her and it didn't matter to him…she still was beautiful…even more so with this new air of vulnerability. It made him all the more protective towards her…and all the more compassionate.

And spurred him to move heaven and earth to find this attacker.

And when he did, Woody hoped to hell the man was armed and dangerous, because nothing would delight him more than to kill the son of a bitch.

* * *

Another woman came into the morgue…that had been brutally attacked and then murdered. It wasn't the condom rapist's work, but it was a female victim. Nigel and Woody both had tried to shield Jordan from the fact, but she had found out.

And while she was grateful for their protectiveness and care, she knew instinctively now was the time to move on. She looked out over the Boston skyline from her perch on the morgue roof. This was her city…her hometown….her life. And now was the time to reclaim it. She had dragged her feet for too long…true, she had needed time to heal, but it had been months since her attack. She was fine physically. Emotionally…she was more stable. And now was the time to take the next step in putting the whole incident behind her and getting on with her life. Resolutely she came down off the roof andfound her way to Woody's office.


	9. We Need to Talk

**Chapter Nine**

**We Need to Talk**

He saw her before she saw him. She quietly opened the door to the detectives' room and stood there for a moment…dressed in a denim skirt that hung nearly to her ankles and a bulky sweater that covered her hips. But in Woody's eyes, she always had looked lovely…the only thing he noticed was that the gold in the yarn of the sweater brought out the honey-colored flecks in her eyes.

She stood there alone and vulnerable for a few moments, scoping out the room, looking for him. She swallowed hard. This would probably be the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life, but Woody would have to know…he was the lead detective. She finally caught sight of him on the other side of the room, already making his way over to her. "Hi," he said, unsure of why she was here, but glad that she was.

"You're not using your cane," was the first words out of her mouth.

He smiled softly. "No… I was able to give it up last week."

Jordan mentally kicked herself for not noticing. She bit her lip and looked at her shoes. "I need to talk to you," she whispered, finally looking into his blue eyes, and finding them smiling at her.

"Could I take you dinner?"

She shook her head. "No…I think an interrogation room would be better." She felt the tears begin to well in her eyes.

"Jordan?" It hit him then. She had come to talk about her attack.

"Yeah…a room and a female detective…." She took a deep breath and looked into his face. "This is going to be hard, Woody."

Tentatively, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close for just a second. He didn't feel her flinch. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart…..everything is going to be okay."

* * *

The next two hours were the hardest in Woody's life. He had to sit and listen as Jordan first apologized profusely for not coming forward before now, tearing up as she offered her explanation.

"Don't worry…it's okay…I promise," Woody told her.

"That's right, the most important thing is that you did come forward now," added Rene' Walcott, who had come in place of a female detective.

Jordan nodded numbly. It didn't feel okay. She only felt miserable, but knew she needed to follow through. In painstaking detail, she described her attack and what she remembered of her assailant.

Woody's emotions ranged from rage to sympathy to an increasing desire to protect this woman. He tried his best to keep his detective's mask in place as she finally finished her statement, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes. "That's all I remember," she said. "It's still coming back to me in bits and pieces…more often at night than any other time…it comes in flashbacks and repressed memories. As time goes on, I may remember more." She handed Woody a notebook. "This has some of the stuff I remember at night. Nigel always would write it down as I told him."

Woody took the notebook and hoped Jordan wouldn't notice the trembling in his own fingers. "Thanks. This will be invaluable, Jo."

She simply nodded and reached for another tissue.

"Jordan…do you remember anything about what he looks like?" Rene' asked.

"No…he wore a ski mask…I just remember his eyes were gray…a cold gray."

Walcott nodded and patted Jordan's other hand. "If you remember anything else…day or night…"

"I know…I'll call," she said, her shoulders sagging with relief and dread all at the same time. Besides giving the police all the clues she had, she also knew she had sat herself up to testify against this man if he was ever caught. This was something she had no desire to do.

"And if I can help…call me," Walcott said, rising from her seat in the room. She nodded to Woody. "Take care of her, Detective."

Woody returned her nod and then turned his attention to Jordan, who was still gripping one of his hands tightly. She had taken it when she began to talk and had never let go. She probably wasn't even aware that she still held it. He placed his other hand over hers, too. "Jordan?"

Warily she looked at him. She fully expected to get that "look" that most detectives gave rape victims. To her surprise there was only warmth… "Yeah?"

"Can I take you back to Nigel's?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "I hoped…that after this…I would feel strong enough to go back to my apartment." She looked at him, searching for some reason why she didn't felt this way. "But I don't. I just want to go back to Nigel's, curl up in the bed, and sleep the next week away."

"That's normal, Jordan."

She sat back and closed her eyes. Of all the people she had never wanted to know, Woody was at the top of her list. And then as her luck would have it, he was the lead detective. But better he hear it from her than second hand from someone else who may have embellished her story. Finally, she drew a deep breath and stood up. Woody followed. "If….you could take me to Nigel's I would really appreciate it. I don't think I could drive right now and Nigel doesn't get off work for a few more hours…"

"Sure, Jordan." He kept her hand in his as he helped her from the room and into the elevator. When the doors shut, he cautiously pulled her closer. She went willingly and laid her head on his shoulder…thankful that he was there…even if she knew everything she had just told him had sealed the end of any relationship they had. He couldn't feel anything other than pity for her after that. But right now, his strength felt so good…and the warmth of his presence was so comforting…even if it was fleeting. The ride to the lobby of the police building was far too short.

The drive home, however, seemed to take forever. Woody didn't know what to say to comfort her….and Jordan was taking his silence as rejection. Nothing was heard except for the soft sound of her occasional sniffing. He reluctantly helped her up to Nigel's apartment and waited until she let herself in.

"I'm not going to ask if you're going to be okay," Woody began softly, gently taking her hand. "I know you will be….eventually. You're too much of a fighter not to be," he grinned at her. "But…do you need me to stay with you for a while?"

Jordan winced at his words. _Stay a while…_ she had asked him to do this one other time…over a year ago… She drew a deep breath to steady her voice. "No…I'll be okay. I'm going to take a Tylenol and lay down until Nigel gets home."

Woody nodded. "I'll call and check on you later, okay?" he said, trying to look in her eyes.

"Sure…"

He headed for the door, but stopped, turned around and frowned. "I don't want to leave you by yourself, Jordan."

She smiled weakly. "What you going to do? Watch me sleep?"

"I wouldn't mind it."

She gave him a good natured push toward the door. "Go back to work, Detective. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Woody let himself out of Nigel's apartment, Jordan shutting the door behind him and locking it. Resolutely, she walked into Nigel's kitchen, reached into the broom closet, behind the cleaning supplies and pulled out a bottle of bourbon that Nigel kept there, poured herself a double and downed it with a gulp.


	10. Scarred

**Chapter Ten**

**Scarred**

While the revelations of her attack brought new light to the case for the Boston Police Department, for Jordan it brought nothing but more pain and fear.

Fear that the rapist would somehow find out she had gone to the police and come after her again. Fear that she would someday look into Woody's eyes and see that "look" of mixed sympathy and pity that rape victims were often given by detectives.

And pain because now her nightmares were again coming in earnest. With alarming regularity. Some nights they occurred every time she dozed off. She would close her eyes and see his eyes…feel the knife against her throat…hear the rip of her shirt…and wake up gasping.

Nigel usually heard her…and would come into to sit with her until she could muster the courage to close her eyes again. Or on nights she woke up and caught herself before she cried out and aroused him, she'd wrap herself in a blanket and find her way to a window to wait out the sunrise.

She was losing more weight and more sleep and looking a little worse each day.

Which was pushing Woody all the more harder to find her attacker. He knew the criminal would mess up at some point…leave evidence that would point straight to him….or come back to re-visit a crime scene as a lot of serial murderers do.

And Woody was right. One of the former crime scenes under surveillance caught a suspicious man stalking the area. He was picked up for questioning. Fibers from his car that had been transferred to his clothing…and then from him to Jordan and several of the other victims nailed the perp.

Woody ended up solving the case late one night…and when the man was finally behind bars, Woody had to tell Jordan. He made his way to Nigel's apartment, where she was still staying. He came, hoping that his news would do two things…first, put an end to Jordan's nightmares and second, somehow bridge the emotional gap that kept growing between the two of them since she had come forward about her attack.

Jordan was there, and answered his knock…Nigel was on call and out in the field. She came to the door dressed her tank top, shorts, and robe…ready for bed. Warily, she had checked the peephole in the door, only opening it when she was sure it was Woody on the other side.

"Hi," he greeted her, after she had shut the door again and locked it.

"Hi yourself…what brings you here so late?"

"I just wanted you to know before it hit the news…we've caught the condom rapist."

Jordan swallowed hard and looked wide-eyed at Woody. "You did? You're sure it's him?"

"It matches forensically. Bug ran the tests himself."

"Oh…"

Somehow she didn't act as relieved as Woody thought she would. "Don't you understand, Jordan? Your attacker…is in jail. He can't hurt you or anyone else again."

She turned from him walked to the other side of the room. "And if I would have come forward weeks ago, he could have been caught long before now…and another half a dozen girls wouldn't have been hurt."

"You don't know that Jordan. And you can't blame yourself. You did what you had to the way you had to and in the time frame you had to. It all worked out."

She gave a bitter laugh. "If you say so…"

"Jordan…I don't understand. I thought you'd be happy that he was caught."

She sighed then, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her attack…and the changes it had brought in her life. "I am, Woody. I really am. Truly. You've done good work…all of the PD has…and I am happy that no one else will suffer at the hands of this monster. But I will have the scars he gave me for the rest of my life."

"Jordan…you'll be better…in time."

She turned to face him then. "Do you think that given time…I'll _forget_ what happened to me?"

"No…that's not what I meant. I meant that you would learn to deal with it."

"Deal with the fact that the man made me feel less than human? Deal with the fact that he made me feel like a piece of trash ….that after he used me, he threw me away…that I could have died? Deal with the fact that I am scared to live by myself…sleep in an apartment alone….and when I do have to be alone at night, end up sleeping in the closet with a pillow because I'm too frightened to be out in the open? Deal with the fact that I can't stand anyone touching me…even you … that if the time comes when I am alone with a man…I am not sure what my reaction will be?

"Deal with every morning I am reminded what the man did to me…took from me….because every time I look in the mirror, I see this?" Jordan slowly pulled open the front of her robe and pushed her tank top aside to reveal a long, wicked scar that ran from her neck, across her breast and over her nipple.

Woody's gasp was nearly audible. "You never told us he used a knife on you," he swallowed.

"I told you he had one…after looking at the other victims he's slashed, did you think he would let me off so easy?" She readjusted her top and bathrobe. "Did you?"

Woody wasn't sure what he thought. He had tried to put as many details of Jordan's attack as he could out of his mind…relying on her taped statement for record.

Only now he could see how hard it was for her to move forward when getting dressed everyday would set her back. That catching the guy was only a codicil to her recovery. This perp had taken everything away from her.

Or he had at least tried.

It would take time….and probably infinite patience … but Woody was determined to give everything back to her. And more.


	11. Sleeping Beauty

**Chapter Eleven**

**Sleeping Beauty**

She finally went back to her apartment. Since the rapist was caught, she knew everyone would think it odd that she continue to stay with Nigel.

Besides, Nigel needed his life back, she rationalized. And with enough therapy and Dr. Stiles' help, she may even begin sleeping in her bed the entire night at some point during her natural life.

But so far, it wasn't happening. No matter how late she worked, trying to exhaust herself, she still would wake up during the night and be frightened…of what, she had no idea. Her attacker was in jail…awaiting trial…and she had been promised by Rene' Walcott that if the perp did happen to escape, Jordan would be notified immediately.

As of that afternoon, the rapist was still behind bars…Jordan knew that for a fact. She had called Woody to make sure. "Don't worry, Jo. He won't be getting out. There is no bail set…and he's being watched 24/7."

"I know…it's just…" he heard her voice falter.

"Hey…I've got a case to go out on…I know it's your quitting time…but it's down by the wharf…pretty simple. Want to go with me to blow off some time?"

It would be better than sitting at home, waiting for sleep that wasn't going to come. "Sure."

And it was a fairly simple stabbing case. But what bothered Woody the most was that she _listened _to him. He asked her to stay in his car, just for a few minutes while he conferred with the detective that had secured the scene and make sure everything was kosher. Then they could leave. In the past, Jordan would have been out on the wharf, looking at the body, asking her own questions.

This time she sat quietly in the car, waiting for him to come back. _No…she's definitely not even remotely back to normal_, Woody thought. And with the trial looming, he knew that she would be reliving once again every moment of her attack…from the questioning of Rene to the questioning of the defense attorney. He dreaded that for her more than she would ever know and wished there was some way he could protect her from it.

But there wasn't. And Jordan had realized that when she came forward about her attack.

"Would you like to go get some dinner?" he asked her as he got back in the car.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah…you know that meal you eat at the end of the day?" he teased.

She stared out the window of her car for a moment. "Why, Woody? Why are you doing this?"

"Asking you to dinner?"

"Yeah…that and…trying to take care of me. You said it was over between us. You told me to get out of your life. And I did. But yet you keep showing back up in mine...why?"

Now wasn't the time or the place to tell her just how stupid and wrong he had been. Nigel had been right. Jordan was getting at least a little better everyday…but still had a long way to go. And she was still far to fragile for him to tell her everything in his heart…that the words he spoke in the hospital were spoken out of fear…and anger. Not against her…but she became the unwilling, substitute target of his rage. Finally, finding his voice, he replied, "I still care about you as a person and…and…as a colleague, Jordan. Just like you do me, I'm sure."

She nodded. "Yeah." She was still staring out his window.

"So…dinner?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Woody started the car and noted that his suit had begun to take on the faint odor of dead fish. "Do you mind if we stop by my apartment and let me change first? Unless we go to a sushi bar I may have a hard time being allowed in anywhere." He grinned at her, hoping for a response. She simply nodded.

* * *

The ride back to his place was mostly silent, except for the times he bounced ideas off of her concerning the stabbing at the wharf. She gave him her opinions, which as usual were sound. He let them both in his neat apartment. "Have a seat. I'll get cleaned up and we'll go."

"Take your time." She sat down on the couch, slid her shoes off, and tucked her legs under her. It had been over year…nearly eighteen months since she had been in his home. It was quiet…and warm…and for a moment she realized just how safe she felt here. Woody…despite everything that had happened between them…still offered her a sense of strength and security she didn't have with anyone else. That feeling begin to take over her tired body…she felt her shoulders droop and before she knew it, she had curled up around the arm of his couch and fell asleep as she heard him turn on his shower and clean up. _I'll get up when he's ready to go_, was the last coherent thought in mind.

Woody found her there, sound asleep, when he emerged from his bedroom dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She didn't budge when he knelt and brushed the hair off her forehead and softly called her name. He didn't think she had been sleeping well since she returned to her apartment on Pearle Street. He wondered how many nights she had spent sleeping on the floor of her closet, clutching her pillow to her chest. His heart nearly broke as that image flickered across his mind. Well…tonight she would sleep well … with no fears of her attacker haunting her mind. Gently he lifted her in his arms and took her to his bed and tucked her in.

She never batted an eyelash. She slept through the entire transition. Woody chuckled as he padded back to his kitchen to warm up left-over Thai in the microwave.

* * *

Jordan woke hours later…in a strange bed…with a man's arms around her. For a moment she panicked and struggled. "Hey," a soft voice whispered in her ear. "It's okay…it's just me…you fell asleep on the couch….and I just didn't want to wake you up. You looked like you were resting so well…" His voice trailed off as he propped himself up on his elbow to look her in the eyes. He bit his lip and wondered if he should tell her how much she looked like Sleeping Beauty when she woke up.

Jordan tried to focus on his face, but the room was dim and her eyes were still heavy. Woody had spoken the truth. She had been resting well. As a matter of fact, it was the best night's sleep she had spent since she was unconscious those two days in the hospital. "Do you want me to take the couch? Would that make you more comfortable?" he asked.

_And leave me alone? Part of the reason I'm resting so well is that you're here…holding me…As long as you do that, I can rest,_ she thought. "No…" she replied. "It's fine…besides you still have to be careful with your back…." She settled back down, unconsciously snuggling closer to him. Woody tightened his hold on her and watched her fall back into a deep sleep.

_It would be nice to watch her fall asleep every night_, was the fleeting thought that ran through his mind as he kissed the back of her head and fell asleep himself.


	12. Trial by Fire

**Chapter Twelve**

**Trial by Fire**

She was getting better.

The platonic night she had spent with Woody showed her she was capable of being touched again without freaking out. Nights were still hard…she continued to have trouble sleeping. Her life was slowly beginning to get back to normal since the rapist had been imprisoned.

Her only real, tangible fear now was the upcoming trial. The rapist had procured one of the best defense lawyers in town, Daniel Norwood. As Rene' prepared Jordan to testify, she also warned the young ME that Daniel Norwood would grill her relentlessly on the stand about why she didn't come forward earlier.

Jordan wasn't looking forward to the trial, even if it meant putting her attacker away for the rest of his natural life.

Woody knew this. As lead detective on the case, he knew he would also have to testify. He wasn't looking forward to it anymore than Jordan was. But he worried more about what the trial would do to Jordan…would it allow her to close the book on this awful chapter of her life, or would it re-open wounds that were, as far as he could tell, just beginning to heal.

He had kept close tabs on her now…since she spent the night in his apartment. She seemed to be more comfortable around him, even if she had no idea about his true feelings towards her. He tried to keep his relationship with her on a friendship level, and he could tell sometimes this confused her. In her mind, he had totally rejected her…even as a friend. So he could tell that often his attention to her puzzled her.

But at least she wasn't backing away when he took her arm to help her around a crime scene, or put his hand on the small of her back to guide her across the street. He longed to slide his arm completely around her waist and pull her to him…and well…take her home with him so that she would feel safe and secure and be able to get another night's rest.

That would be moving too soon, too fast and would do more harm than good right now. So Woody waited out the time until the trial. After that, he would see if she was ready to move on with her life or needed some more time to pull herself together.

* * *

It was deceptively cold the day of the trial. While the sun shone brightly in a brilliantly blue Boston sky, the temperatures hovered near the ten degree mark. Woody was in the courtroom, sitting right behind Rene'. Jordan was in the witness room. He didn't see her until she was called.

She looked so tiny when she was sworn in. She was dressed in a black suit…modest skirt, that hung several inches below her knees…white blouse, buttoned up nearly to her neck…black jacket. She still couldn't bring herself to dressing the way she used to…the way that Woody had always admired. Her hair was pulled back in a bun…emphasizing the wideness of her eyes and to Woody, the fragility of face. He silently swore to himself that if Daniel Norwood was hard on Jordan, Woody would be hard on him after the trial.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?" the bailiff asked, as she swore in Jordan.

"I do."

"For the record, state your entire name and occupation," Rene' told her, standing to make her way to the witness box.

"Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, medical examiner for the state of Massachusetts."

And with that, Rene' began to gently lead Jordan through the events of that night, and the reasons why she was so reluctant to come forward. Despite the fact that Jordan was facing her attacker, she remained composed and gave her testimony in great detail…sometimes needing to pause and swallow hard to keep from breaking down. At the beginning, she would maintain eye contact with Woody, as if to draw strength from him. But as Rene' began to draw out the detail of the attack from her, Jordan dropped her eyes or looked at Rene'. Even though Jordan was more than sure Woody knew all the details of her attack, knowing he was hearing them again from her was not easy.

"Your witness," Rene' finally said to Daniel Norwood. The attorney stood and buttoned his coat.

"Dr. Cavanaugh…you stated that you did not see your attacker's face."

"That's right."

"But you remember his eyes?"

"They were gray."

"I see. So the only thing really linking you to this man," Daniel continued, pointing to his client, "is a few fibers…there was no DNA at all."

"Objection," Rene said, getting to her feet. "Mr. Norwood is treating Dr. Cavanaugh differently from the other witnesses, using her knowledge as a ME against her."

"Sustained," the judge ruled.

Daniel smiled at Jordan. She could feel her stomach turn inside out…it was like she was being attacked all over again.

"Very well…..Ms. Cavanaugh. It is Ms, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm not married."

"Engaged?"

"N…no."

"Dating?"

"Objection, your Honor….what has this line of questioning got to do with these attacks?" Rene' said, rising to her feet again.

"Your Honor, I'll fit this all together in a moment…if you will indulge me," Daniel pleaded.

The judge was silent for a moment. "I'll over rule the objection at this time, but make your point quickly, counselor."

"Dating?" the attorney asked Jordan again.

"No."

"I see….may I remind you that you're under oath?"

Jordan nodded. "I know…and I'm telling the truth."

"So if you're not dating…can you tell the court why you waited really waited so long to come forward about your attack…and why Detective Hoyt figured in so prominently in that decision…."

"Detective Hoyt had nothing to do with me not coming forward."

"That's not true, Ms. Cavanaugh. Isn't it a fact that you and Detective Hoyt were very close before the attack…and that you two had an argument…and that was the reason you didn't hear whoever attacked you in the parking deck…you were too preoccupied with your thoughts of your relationship with him to be aware of your surroundings – these were your own words in your statement – and that your attacker could have really been anyone…you're just trying to close this chapter in your life so you can maybe salvage your relationship with the detective?"

"No.."

"Objection!" Rene shouted. "Dr. Cavanaugh's relationships with anyone has nothing to do with the fact that she was maliciously hunted down, attacked, and left for dead by the alleged attacker in the parking deck of her apartment."

"Sustained. Be very careful, counselor," the judge warned Daniel.

The attorney smiled at Jordan again. She felt her stomach heave.

"Isn't it true you've been attacked before, Ms. Cavanaugh…and you didn't press charges at that time?'

Jordan's head began to swim. She had told Rene about the attack inside her apartment months ago, when the burglar had made her undress, but not Woody. "I…my….apartment was broken into." She was having a difficult time breathing.

"But that wasn't all."

Jordan remained silent.

"Isn't it true that the man who broke into you apartment also sexually attacked you and you did nothing about it?"

"Objection…what does one attack have to do with the other, your Honor? It was two different men, two different attacks," Rene said.

"It shows state of mind, your Honor," Daniel replied.

"I will allow this line of questioning now, but be aware you are on very thin ice, Mr. Norwood."

"Isn't it true that the man who broke into you apartment also sexually attacked you and you did nothing about it?" Daniel repeated his question to Jordan.

"I reported the robbery…to Detective Hoyt…I knew that if the robber was caught, so was my attacker."

"But he wasn't?'

"Not to my knowledge…"

"Then don't you think, Ms. Cavanaugh, that given your propensity to repress memories of your attacks….and your procrastination in reporting them until cornered, you might just be blaming anyone for them in order to avoid someone being made aware about them that you don't feel comfortable knowing…that you're so anxious to put them in the past, your inclined to blame anyone the Boston PD tells you is the attacker."

"No…this man has been lined forensically to me…it's not my opinion or anything else…"

"Objection!" Rene shouted. "The victim is just that…a victim, despite who she knows or what she does for a living. And Dr. Cavanaugh is behaving like a victim of a violent, malicious, crime…"

"I withdraw my last statements," Daniel said smoothly, knowing the harm was already done and the jury had already heard him. "I'm through with the witness."

"You may step down, Dr. Cavanaugh," the judge said.

Jordan stepped away from the witness box, casting a quick glance at Woody, who was looking down at his hands. She had never told him about her first attack…things had happened so quickly after that…then the next thing she knew she had been refusing his friendship ring and he was shot. Sighing, she turned away and walked out the door behind the judge's bench.

What would he think of her now? How was he going to handle her not telling him about the first attack?

She had never lied to Woody….but this time, she hadn't told him the whole truth, either.


	13. You Are Beautiful

**Chapter Thirteen**

**You Are Beautiful**

"I'm sorry."

Those were the first words out of her mouth as soon as Woody came back to the witness holding room after testifying himself. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, walking over to her, his hands on his hips.

Jordan swallowed hard. "I…It….wasn't like this attack…That time I wasn't….he didn't…" She still couldn't say the word…it was still too brutal and too fresh.

"Tell me, Jordan. What happened?"

Taking a deep breath and looking down at her fingers that were twisting themselves in knots, she started. "The guy that broke into my apartment….I know I told you I was at work when it happened. But I wasn't. That night after we were through dancing and you brought me home…when I went into my apartment, he was in there. I guess I surprised him. He….he….had a knife, but as he was rummaging through my dresser, he found my hand gun. He pointed it at me and made me…made…me take off my clothes. When he reached out to touch me, I fought back…and I guess I scared him because he ran off. I knew if the Boston PD ever caught the burglar, I'd have him…I could bring up the other charge of attempted assault.

But I didn't tell you because so much was going on…Devan was still alive then…and I wasn't sure if I fit into your life anymore. Then it just seemed there was case after case…and none of them were easy. Levithan, Dad coming back home…. the Albanian Mob….you and Cal…We went back to LA…and then everything after that….you wanting to hold me closer, me avoiding you…the ring…and then you were shot," she finished, drawing in another deep breath. "And at that point you told me to get out of your life. In the great scheme of things….the playing field that has been our life together … it just seemed it really wasn't that significant. Honestly, I rarely think about it. It wasn't until today…that it seemed important to anyone." She shut her eyes to fight back the tears.

"You never thought I'd want to know?"

"Things were just moving so fast, Woody."

He sighed and propped against a wall by her side. "I see your point…But I wish you would have told me."

"I have …now."

"But I should have known then."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why he would even want to know then when he was seeing Devan at the time. But she simply nodded and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Rene' said for me to tell you that you could leave for the day," Woody said abruptly She won't be calling you back to the stand again this afternoon."

Jordan once again nodded and went to retrieve her purse and jacket on the other side of the room. Woody followed her, and took her jacket out of her hands to help her put it on. "I don't care how often you told yourself it didn't matter, or under what circumstances you thought it wasn't important, it was…to me, especially. I never want anyone to hurt you, Jordan." He gently turned her around and lifted her chin with his thumb so she was looking him in the eyes. "You're too special…and beautiful….for that to happen. And I'd hurt anyone who tries to harm you…including that smart ass attorney defending that psycho in the courtroom." He smiled warmly down at her and lightly kissed her forehead.

* * *

She went back to her office in a daze. Despite everything, Woody still thought she was beautiful. Despite her attacks, despite her avoiding him, despite the scar that was still visible from her neck to her breast, Woody had never stopped thinking she was beautiful. She blinked back the tears as she touched her forehead where he had kissed her.

Woody may never know what he had just given her back. No one had called her beautiful in so long…and her treatment by her attacker and his lawyer had made her feel less than human…..no, less than a woman….And Woody had gone a long way in restoring her faith in herself. She made her way to the women's locker room and surveyed herself in the full length mirrors.

She was thinner than she was a year ago. Her clothes were between a size zero and a one. She needed to gain a little more weight back to emphasize her curves again. And maybe it was time to stop dressing like a nun. While she may never get her sexy self-confidence back, perhaps it was time to start putting back on her jeans and blouses once more.

Maybe…just maybe… it was time to stop acting like a victim and start acting like a survivor.

Woody hadn't said things were back to normal between them. He hadn't said that he wanted her back in his life.

But he had given Jordan her faith back in herself. He thought she was beautiful and special.

And for that, she would always be eternally grateful to her Farm Boy.

* * *

_Someone has thrown a switch in that woman_, Woody thought with amazement as Jordan took the stand the next day. Gone was the long, black skirt and scared appearance. The woman that took the witness stand the next day was standing tall and confident, dressed in a pin striped suit and blue blouse…opened two buttons, exposing her throat and the scar for the first time.

The gasp from the courtroom spectators was audible as Rene' questioned her about the long red mark that ran down the side of her throat and down the right side of her chest.

And Jordan never flinched. She gave detail for detail over what had happened and how if she had not been found by a Good Samaritan neighbor, she would have bled to death in the parking deck of her apartment. When Rene' had finally dismissed her from the witness box, Jordan had sought out Woody, sitting in his usual place behind Rene. She smiled softly. His eyes glowed with pride…and relief.

Jordan was becoming Jordan once again.


	14. Hold Me

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Hold Me**

Returning to normal took a long time. Three months after the trial she still was struggling to sleep some nights, but most of the evenings found her curled up in her bed…hugging her pillow … one part of her happy that her life was getting back to the way things were before the attack…the other part of her wishing her pillow was Woody.

They still worked together. He was asking for her as the answering ME whenever they were on call together. They laughed and joked together again. And he could once more put his hand on the small of her back to lead her around a crime scene…or hold her hand to help her down an embankment. She no longer flinched at his touch or anyone else's.

Nigel had given her a standing invitation at his apartment…if she was ever frightened, all she had to do was give him a call and he would come and get her.

She never had to take him up on his offer.

Woody continued to be relieved and amazed at her progress, although she remained more cautious than she ever was before the attack – not necessarily a bad thing. Her attacker had been given life without the possibility of parole. So she didn't have to face him or Daniel Norwood again, nor being present to protest his parole -- ever. Woody was eternally grateful for that.

And he continued to treat her with exquisite gentleness and tenderness, making sure her recovery was complete. She knew it. She reveled in it…but she still had no idea what place she held in his life. He never mentioned their previous relationship…and made no mention of any in the future. She was trying to make herself accept it…that it was over between them, except for a working camaraderie.

Until the dinner party.

Woody had decided to have a get together at his apartment to ring in the New Year. Christmas had found many of them working during that holiday, so most of them had New Year's off from work. It was nothing fancy….pizza, Woody's spaghetti, beer, salad, and of course, champagne to ring in the New Year's with. Jordan had been invited, but nearly waffled out at the last minute. She still struggled with social functions….and she dreaded the thought of going out to her car after midnight, driving home, and then walking back through her parking garage alone at that hour.

Woody knew it. "Don't worry. I'll pick you up, take you home, and walk you to your door," he had told her.

"That's too much trouble, Woody. Especially since you have to get ready for the party…and clean up afterwards."

"I'll make a deal with you. You stay and help me clean up afterwards, and I'll deliver you home safe and sound."

"I don't know…."

"Come on, Jordan. I really want you to come. It won't be the same without you." He gave her his best smile…dimples and all.

She felt her knees melt. It was a lost cause. "Sure," she finally agreed.

So they had gotten together with Bug, Lily, Sydney, Nigel, and Santana on New Year's Eve, eating and finally toasting in the New Year with champagne and Dick Clark. Soon after everyone filed out but Jordan. She began to stack the dishwasher and sweep the kitchen as Woody ran the vacuum. When the last dish was rinsed, the last stray glass washed, and the trash was emptied, she stifled a yawn and caught Woody doing the same.

"I guess you need to take me home so we both can crash," she chuckled.

"What about just staying here tonight? I mean, you've done it before…I'm beat and so are you." And he looked it. Jordan still worried about his back, even though the doctors had pretty much given him a clean bill of health.

"Is your back bothering you again?"

"No…at least not much."

"That does it. I'll stay so you can rest. And on the condition I take the couch and you take the bed."

Woody shook his head. "No…that's not the gentlemanly thing to do. You take the bed."

"You heard me."

"And you heard me."

"Don't be so stubborn…"

"And don't be so pig-headed. My couch sleeps just fine."

"Then you should have no problem with me spending the night on it."

Woody gave her an exasperated look. Then an idea hit him. "Tell you what. Let's both sit down and watch the rest of Dick Clark's New Year's program. Whoever falls asleep first gets the couch. The other gets the bed."

"We both may be up all night then."

Woody laughed. "I don't think so. You look tired."

"And you obviously haven't looked in the mirror since this afternoon, Detective."

Woody plopped down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. "C'mere." Jordan sat down and tried to turn her attention to the program on TV…but it was difficult. Woody had his arm draped over the back of the couch, not touching her shoulders, but tantalizingly close.

"Can I ask you something?" he said so softly she nearly thought she was imagining things.

"Sure."

"What caused you to snap out of it? I mean, snap out of the mind set you had before the trial? One day it appeared you were nearly scared to death…that you were allowing Norwood to grill you over the coals without fighting back. The next day, it was like you were daring him to."

Jordan turned slightly then and leaned back, her head nearly on his arm now so that she could look him in the eyes. "You did."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Me? What did I do?"

"It was what you said to me in the witness room…after the first day of my testimony. You told me…you said I was special and ….beautiful." She lowered her eyes shyly. "It had been so long since someone had told me that…but the way you said it sounded like you meant it…that it was true….it made me feel….normal again…despite the attack."

He gently lifted her chin so she was looking him in the eyes again. "It is true, Jordan. You are beautiful….and more special than you will ever know."

"Thanks….but I know that I'll never really be the same again…That I'm not….what I was before….everything."

He gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I know…I remember…the way you looked at me before….the truth is…I know I'm not beautiful anymore….not with everything that happened….and not with this." She traced the scar that was still visible on her neck.

Woody's eyes followed her movement, tracing the scar from where it started at the base of her neck and trailed as low as her shirt would allow. Then he looked her in the eyes again and shook his head. "No…I meant it. You're beautiful….this," he lightly following the scar with the tip of his index finger, "takes_ nothing_ away from your beauty or the fact that you_ are_ special."

"Woody, you don't have to…"

"I mean it…every word." He gently pushed the collar of her shirt aside, lowered his head, and softly kissed the offending line. "You are beautiful. And you are special….never forget that…and never let anyone take that away from you."

Jordan drew in a sharp breath at the contact of his lips against her skin. It had been years since she had experienced that intimate of a touch…and never with Woody….if she had been anxious about what her mind's and body's reaction would be when something that personal did occur, her concerns were instantly put at rest. Her soft sigh reassured Woody that he hadn't overstepped his boundaries. His arm slid around her waist and drew her nearer. "You are beautiful…and very special to me, Jordan. You always have been…even when I told you to get out of my life, I didn't mean it. Well, maybe I did at the time…" he smiled softly at her. "My macho, bad-assed self didn't want you to see me lying there helpless. But I never wanted you gone forever."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "So does this mean that we're friends again?"

Woody shook his head. "I hope not. I hope…as you continue to get your bearings….that we can be more than friends this time. And without the pressure of a friendship ring…or anything else. Just you and me…and wherever the road ahead takes us." He pulled her closer. "Is…that something you'd be interested in?"

Jordan nodded, not trusting her voice at first. "Yes…"

Woody gently brushed his lips to hers and pushed the hair out of her eyes. "Then…it's settled. And now…I'm bushed…and so are you….what say we can the couch and both share my bed tonight…"

"That sounds….wonderful."

Woody stood and pulled her up from where she was sitting. "And I promise…no funny business….we'll take as along as we need to…to…"

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Please….just hold me tonight? And we'll see where that takes us."


	15. Walking Together

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Walking Together Again**

The problem with Boston police cases is that they don't always stay in Boston.

And Woody found him dealing with such a case a couple of months after January first. After their New Year's Eve discussion, he and Jordan spent as much time together as they could without raising suspicions of anyone they worked with. They just weren't ready to answer awkwardly phrased questions that they had no response to yet.

That night, Woody had held her close until next morning, and softly kissed her awake after the sun was half way up the sky. Jordan had smiled contentedly and kissed him back.

And that's as far as they had gotten in their physical relationship. Woody was a patient man…and he wanted Jordan to take the lead in directing the level of intimacy she was comfortable with.

Emotionally, the detective knew he had hit a home run with her. They talked for hours…about everything from their childhood vacations to the emotional baggage they carried on their journey to adulthood. He felt he knew her better than anyone else and reveled in the fact that once again, Jordan felt safe enough with him that she could open up.

But now he had to fly to Pennsylvania to retrieve a captured suspect in a string of car jackings. He would only be gone a few days, but still worried about her. He hadn't been away from Jordan since her attack.

He didn't want to leave now.

"I'm as close as the phone if you need me," he told her before he boarded the Delta flight out.

"I'll be fine…and Nigel said that if I got frightened while you were gone…"

"I know…you have a standing invitation at his apartment."

She smiled and kissed him good-bye…with a level of passion and need that Woody hadn't felt from her yet. "Are you all right?' he asked.

"Just missing you already."

* * *

"Hey, Detective," she said, softly tapping on his door at the same time.

"Hey yourself. C'mere." She shut the door behind her and found herself caught up in his arms in a heartbeat. "How did you know I got back?"

"Santana called me." Woody hadn't known exactly when he would get back from Pennsylvania, and the department had sent vehicles to pick him and the suspect up. At Jordan's request, Santana had phoned her the minute Woody showed up at the precinct.

"You missed me, didn't you?' he questioned, after kissing her.

"Yeah. Very much. When can you leave?"

"Five o'clock. Wanna meet me for dinner?"

"As long as it's somewhere quiet."

"How does the Chez Hoyt sound?"

"Your apartment, Chinese delivery, and a movie?"

Woody nodded.

"I'll be there at seven."

* * *

She arrived promptly, and dinner was ordered. And they didn't spend a lot of time watching whatever movie it was that made it into the DVD player. They ended up cuddled on the couch talking and making out like a couple of teenagers. When Woody's watch finally chimed it was midnight, she pulled away. "I guess I could go home now…" she began.

"But you're tired…and I hate the thought of you driving when you're exhausted. You could fall asleep at the wheel…and lots of nasty things could happen…."

"Or I could stay here, if you would loan me a shirt to sleep in."

Woody pretended to seriously consider her request for a few moments, acting like it took a long time to make a decision. "I guess that could be arranged," he teased as he got up and found her a soft, cotton flannel shirt to sleep in. When she came out of the bathroom from changing into it, he had to chuckle. It swallowed her…hanging nearly to her knees.

"Okay…your turn," she said, indicating the bathroom and ignoring his jokes. Jordan went back into the kitchen and finished rinsing their dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. It was there he found her a few minutes later.

And caught his breath. Sometimes he so closely interacted with Jordan that he forgot just how beautiful and petite she was. He quietly came up behind her and encircled her waist. "Ready for bed?" he softly whispered in her ear.

When he reflected on that moment the next afternoon, he realized that was exactly the time he lost the control he thought he had of their relationship.

"Um-hmmmm," was her breathless reply as she reached up behind her and pulled him down for a kiss…one that was more than just tinged with passion, it was laced with longing and desire. Woody nearly gasped at her actions and struggled to regain control.

He didn't get that back until much later.

Woody kept his arms around her waist, not sure exactly where she was taking this embrace. When she finally moved one of his hands from her waist to her breast, he knew exactly where she was going. He cupped its fullness and heard her softly moan against his lips.

He kicked up the passion in their kiss a little more, letting his tongue dual more tantalizing with hers. When she didn't protest, he slowly unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt and slipped one hand inside while the other splayed over her abdomen, pulling her fully against him.

Still no protest from Jordan. Instead, the soft moans that came from her were encouraging him. The hand on her abdomen slipped below the hem of the shirt, seeking the silky skin of her tummy. Woody's knees nearly buckled when he made a startling discovery.

She was completely bare beneath his shirt.

His groan made her chuckle then. "Jordan…."

"I told you I missed you…now let me tell you that I love you…and I never want you to leave me again."

He turned her around to face him. "Are you sure, Jo? I can wait…"

"I know you can. I can't. Not any longer."

* * *

He never fully remembered exactly how they made it to the bedroom, just that when he woke up later that morning, she was snuggled close, her head on his chest, their legs still tangled together…and both of them were as bare as the day they came into the world. She opened her eyes when he shifted beneath her and Woody held his breath, not knowing what her reaction would be.

Her smile was his answer.

"You're okay." It was a statement to her, not a question.

"More than okay…thanks to you."

He blushed slightly. "You're welcome." Looking at her closely, he continued. "You're all the way back now, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever be the same person I was before. I'm more cautious about my safety. I don't ever want to be a victim again. I still get frightened sometimes at night and sleep in my closet, although that hasn't happened recently. But I also feel I'm more compassionate, more sympathetic, and more appreciative of the little things in life.

"But I also am more aware of what's important. And you're at the top of the list."

"So that is why you…"

"Seduced you last night?" She grinned at him.

"You didn't have to work too hard…."

"I wasn't lying…I missed you…and I love you…and I want you in my life forever. I was just ready to move the relationship along…and I knew you were, too, but you wouldn't make the first move. It had to be me. That way you would know I was ready."

"Ah."

"So…does this," she motioned to their still entangled bodies, "bother you?"

"No. Not at all. Just one thing."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"The next time…it's time to move the relationship to the next level…it's my turn."

Jordan grinned at him more widely. "Why Woody…I let you be in control at least half of the time last night."

He shook his head and gently circled her left ring finger with his own index finger. "That's not what I meant. I'll propose to you….not the other way around. I'm old-fashioned like that."

She gasped when his meaning sunk in. "Woody…"

He smiled. "I don't mean now, but in the near future…and no friendship rings. We're beyond that. We both may have had some hard times and difficult obstacles to overcome. We've both fallen from grace…and had a hard time getting back up. But we did. Now…soon….I think it will be time to finish our lives together." He lowered his head and kissed her fully. "Don't you agree?"

Her tearful smile and enthusiastic nod was the answer to all of his questions. They may both have fallen…him from a bullet and her from the attacker, but they were up and walking again…this time together.


End file.
